Remember us
by texasPanzer
Summary: The team is called to investigate the shooting of a sailor in a park, however they must put together who the real target is and the motives for the seemingly random crime while putting together the seedy past of many people involved.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters to_ NCIS. _They are owned by CBS. I'm placing this at Season 3, but it's been a long time since I've seen that season, please forgive me if I've overlooked anything and point them out in a review. I hope to make a few more chapters to make this feel like an entire episode. Enjoy.

Washington D.C in the fall. The leaves of the American Beech and American Elmwere turning beautiful shades of red and yellow as the wind brushed over the limbs taking hundreds away at a time where they fluttered and twirled before landing in the green grass of a park. This park had a jungle gym, slides, monkey bars and many children playing on them with their parents watching or reading their books or playing on their phones. Down a concrete path around the play area walked a man in silence. He wasn't conspicuous, just a man in a gray windbreaker jacket and no hat showing his short, well groomed black hair over a set of dark brown eyes. The man was lean, trim with a fair complexion and walked with a slow stride. In his right hand was a thick, worn book with a faded blue cover. He sat down on a park bench across from the playground just a stone's throw away and cracked open the book to a bookmarked page and began reading while hunched forward in his seat. His eyes went over the characters being defined carefully, trying to picture the scenes in his head with the well-crafted characters and dialog. The words were warming to his body as he was teleported from the park and into a whole new world, but just minutes into his relaxing venture there was a high pitched squeal that perked his ears coming from a little girl a short distance away. She had kicked her ball and it went bouncing towards the man by accident. With one hand he caught the ball and held it as the little girl came bounding up with her small hands reaching out for it and a beaming smile on his face, "Thank you!" she said, but as she was about to take the ball back the man's eyes caught something moving out of the corner of his right eye and his head jerked in that direction. A figure had emerged from thin air and in his hand was a small pistol. Dropping his book and the ball, the man rose up, grabbed the little girl, and spun her away from the threat-putting himself between her and the weapon.

**_BANG!_**

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open revealing NCIS Agent Anthony DiNozzo in a fine business suit and dark tie, his brown hair short but a bit of spike to it holding in one hand a cup of hot coffee and the other his brief case. Walking side by side with his partner Ziva, the former Israeli Mossad agent also carrying a cup of coffee. During the whole elevator ride up they had been talking about movies with Ziva saying, "I've noticed that the American cinemas have put out more remakes lately. Why is that?"

"Companies can't come up with any new ideas, so they put the knife to old ones and tell them to dance" DiNozzo replied with a bit of disdain. He loved movies, watching the same ones over and over until they were engraved in his mind to the point he would recite lines repeatedly, but was disheartened to see so many remakes that butchered the ones he loved. To him, every one of them was just a rip off. "You can't remake classics, Ziva" DiNozzo replied as he placed his suitcase onto his desk and turned back towards her still holding his coffee in his left hand. "They tried to remake the Wizard of Oz, and look how that turned out."

Holding up a slender, yet deadly, finger to him Ziva replied, "Some remakes are good. Like the 'Dawn of the Dead' where the zombies can run. I'll admit, I got a little nervous when that husband turned and broke through the bathroom door."

"Oh?" DiNozzo furrowed an eyebrow, "Did you get scared?" smiling at her.

"I don't get scared" she replied, "You should know that."

"Right," he nodded, "Well then, how would you feel if they remade…" his eyes glanced up at the ceiling trying to come up with a good one. "Oh! Princess Bride! A classic. The perfect movie for everyone; a bit of action, sword fighting, magic…"

"And romance" Ziva smirked before lifting her cup to her lips and taking another hot sip.

"…I was getting to that" he hesitantly responded.

Knowing that he was holding back, Ziva sat on the edge of her desk, "Cary Elwes makes a dashing pirate" in a bid to make DiNozzo jealous.

"Women only like him because of that accent" he huffed and looked away, silently wishing he had a distinct English accent.

"True!" Ziva replied.

Looking back at her DiNozzo said, "C'mon now, Ziva. What happens if they remade the Princess Bride? Gone will be Andre the Giant. Can you imagine anyone else say…" his feet spread shoulder width apart, switching his coffee to the right hand and pressing it forward and his left hand raised up and behind his head in a posture similar to Inigo Montoya's stance when confronting the Six-Fingered Man as his voice dropped to mimic the Spanish accent as he stared intently at his partner, "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father…"

"Prepare to die" a commanding voice shook him from his vision and returned to a rigid state. It was coming from Agent Gibbs, their boss. He marched in with a commanding aura around him with his strong figure, combed silver hair, and rugged face and steel blue eyes. He went for his desk and removed his sidearm from one of the drawers and clipped it to his belt. "A sailor was shot in Emery Park," Gibbs said going towards the elevator with DiNozzo and Ziva following close behind, "Ducky and McGee will meet us there."

The three rode together to the park and along the way McGee sent a text message to DiNozzo that he read to the others, "Newbie says 'There was a little girl involved in the shooting. She is safe and with her parents at the park". It was hard to miss with the area taped off by police and crowds of people all around it making a wall of its own. Approaching the perimeter they showed their badges and signed a sheet before being allowed in. There was Ducky with his stone colored Fedora hat styled safari hat standing beside the park bench where it happened. It was surprising to see Mallard and his assistant Jimmy actually there before them, but wasn't there was the body, an item DiNozzo quickly pointed out after taking off his sunglasses, "Where's the sailor?" If there wasn't a body, then why were they here?

"He's alive" Ducky replied taking off his glasses, "Quite fortunate, really. Good Samaritans stopped the bleeding, but he will be touch-in-go. The bullet just missed his heart."

"And the girl?" Gibbs said in a whisper.

Ducky pointed with two fingers over to a large tree where at the base a mother and father were holding onto the girl tightly as she held onto her ball. "Ziva. DiNozzo, go talk to the parents and the little girl" Gibbs said.

"On it, boss" DiNozzo replied.

"McGee is talking to witnesses, or those that stuck around. From what they have said; this man came up to the two of them and pulled out a pistol. The sailor grabbed the girl and put his body in front of her own" his eyes slowly fell onto the spot where the sailor fell. His tone was mixed with a bit of sadness and joy, sadness at being shot but that the man survived and the little girl as well.

There was a dark spot on the concrete-blood from the sailor Gibbs stared at it intently trying to put together this attack, but he was missing key pieces of the puzzle and here came the answers in McGee with notepad in hand.

"Boss, I spoke to over twenty eyewitnesses including a nurse that helped the victim," his eyes looking at the pad of paper where he jotted down everything, "From what they said, this man in a dark gray shirt, long blonde hair in a ponytail, sunglasses, and running pants came up to the sailor and the little girl, fired a single shot from a small silver pistol and then took off running to the west" pointing over Gibb's right shoulder. "He didn't say anything and didn't take anything from the victims." Closing the pad and sliding it into his jacket's breast pocket he asked, "Is this a terror attack? A lone wolf prowling the area looking for random victim?"

Gibbs didn't respond immediately. Ducky had walked away while McGee was talking and came back a moment later with something in an evidence bag, the book the sailor was reading. "He was reading this," Ducky said handing the book to Gibbs.

Holding it in the palm of his hand Gibbs looked at the face, it was a fad fabric blue so he looked at the spine, "_The Caine Mutiny_" a classic Navy book set during the Second World War about the relief of a captain with a questionable mental state by one of his subordinates during a typhoon. "This isn't a lone wolf" he said staring at the book as if able to read the text through the cover, "This is personal. One of these two was the target of a personal hit."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters to NCIS. They are owned by CBS. I'm placing this at Season 3, but it's been a long time since I've seen that season, please forgive me if I've overlooked anything and point them out in a review. I hope to make a few more chapters to make this feel like an entire episode. Enjoy.

Ziva and DiNozzo approached the couple and their tiny daughter carefully; Ziva with a bright smile to sooth the scared child and DiNozzo removing his sunglasses and pocketing them and pulling out a small pad of paper and a pen. The little girl was terrified, shivering as she clutched tightly around her mother's body. This would require a gentle approach and Ziva took the lead with a reassuring smile, "Hi, I'm Ziva David,"(Saying it as 'Da-Veed') lowering herself onto one knee in the grass before the family, "Don't be afraid. We're the good guys" showing her polished NCIS badge to them.

"NCIS?" the father raised an eyebrow, "Not DC Police?"

"No" DiNozzo replied, "See, the man that was...that protected your daughter, was a sailor in the Navy."

The little girl turned her face carefully towards Ziva when hearing those words, "Is he okay?" her words slow and soft.

"Yes" Ziva nodded, "He's in the hospital right now. He'll be fine in a few days."

DiNozzo asked the father, "Sir, we need to ask everyone here what you may have saw and heard".

The father shrugged his shoulders, "I..._we_ didn't see anything" motioning with his head to his daughter, "She lost her ball. It bounced over to the guy, and then I heard shots and hit the ground."

Though Tony was not getting anywhere with him, Ziva was gaining ground with the little girl, "What's your name?" Ziva asked softly.

"Daisy. That's what my mommy and daddy call me, 'cause my favorite flower is a daisy" she replied slowly letting her clutch go around her mother and sitting in front of Ziva, hands on her lap, gazing up at the dark haired agent sitting a foot away with large blue eyes.

"That's a lovely name. I like daisies" Ziva cooed, "Now, Daisy, you know why we're here, right?" tilting her head slightly to the right. The little girl lowered her head and nodded. "Now, I need you to be brave for me. Can you be brave?" She nodded again. "Good. I need you to remember what did the person look like that shot the man with your ball."

Daisy looked at the ground, fingers picking at the long blades of green grass. Her eyes closed and her mind flashed as she tried to remember, though she wished she didn't. There was her ball, a large pink inflatable and held up in the palm of the hand of the man on the bench. She was reaching up for it with both hands when a dark figure stepped in from her left. The man with the ball jerked his head towards it, dropped the ball and then grabbed Daisy in his arms and lifted her off her feet, spinning away.

**BANG!**

The man fell to the ground and pinned Daisy underneath his body. On the warm concrete, her eyes peeking around the man's shoulders, Daisy stared up at the blue sky as the dark figure looked down at her, turned and ran away.

"Daisy?" Ziva said softly, "Daisy?"

The little girl's eyes jut open.

"I saw him..." she cried.

Gibbs and McGee were still by the park bench with the latter holding onto the evidence bag containing "The Caine Mutiny" plus another with personal effects of the victim including a small cell phone. Gibbs had his hands on his hips staring at the blood stain near his feet then at the bench. The more he thought about it, the more that he knew that this was a personal hit. A random attack would have the man take something from the victim, his wallet or cell phone, but nothing was taken.

Here came Ziva and DiNozzo. "We got nothing from the parents..." DiNozzo said bitterly.

"But Daisy, the little girl, saw the shooter" Ziva replied with a reassuring smile. "She's a pretty brave little girl. Daisy said that the shooter wore dark pants, a gray shirt, but said that the shooter had a strange eye."

"A strange eye?" McGee turned to them with a confused look. "All of the other witnesses said the shooter was wearing sunglasses. How could she see his eyes?"

"It's not something she could make up" Ziva said firmly, "She said the man looked down at her and his glasses fell around his nose. That's when she saw his eyes. She said that they were dark, maybe brown or black. But, she also said that one looked one way, and the other looked another" pointing with the tip of her index finger to her left and then right.

Gibbs sighed, "So, we're looking for a man wearing a dark gray shirt, blonde ponytail, black running pants, sunglasses, and has a lazy eye" That was better than some of their previous cases. Having canvased the area for all eyewitness accounts, and the victim heading for the hospital and likely not able to speak for awhile, Gibbs sighed, "Let's get back to the office."

An hour later...

The screen flashed showing a bust shot of Zimmerman, his dark eyes giving a leer at the camera. "Petty Officer Second Class Robert Zimmermann," Ziva said holding the remote in one hand, "8 years of service, stationed mostly along the East coast, but did four month tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Earned two Good Conduct Medals, two Commendation Medals, and the Achievement Medal to name a few. Saw action in Afghanistan when his base in Kabul was attacked by insurgents in '11. According to the After Action Reports filed by his CO, Zimmerman showed bravery in running across an open field and pulling a wounded Afghan soldier to safety. He recommended him for the Bronze Star with valor."

Staring at the screen intently, reading the small font, McGee was comparing the medals on the sheets to what Ziva just said and noticed a discrepancy, "I don't see a Bronze Star, or a Combat Action Ribbon."

Ziva replied rather perturbed of this fact, "Both were turned down by his CO's CO citing 'lack of evidence'." She didn't like it when noted bravery was deliberately ignored over petty reasons. "His CO, Lt. Commander Herman Kessel, tried again for the Bronze Star a year later when Zimmermann again ran out and pulled a wounded man, this time a Marine, to safety in Baghdad. Once again, he was denied."

The others couldn't believe it and turned to the Mossad agent with McGee asking, "What does it take to get what you earn?"

"I think he pissed on the wrong person," Ziva replied pressing another button on remote the screen changed showing the photo of another sailor named Victor Salvador who was with Zimmerman's detachment. "He was awarded Bronze Stars for both firefights for valor." The guys ignored her grasp of American slang of pissing 'off' and not 'on' and instead focused on Salvador. They had a queer feeling that something amiss and he was part of the reason. Salvador was a big man, several inches taller than Zimmerman, but wasn't a long blonde haired caucasian with a lazy eye.

"Here's one thing I've noticed" Ziva said pressing another button allowing Salvador's picture to be covered over by a well-built Naval officer named Commander Isaac Stevens. "This was Zimmerman's boss's boss when Zimmerman was first stationed here in D.C. Look at this, every medal and commendation that was recommended for Zimmerman came through without a hitch. But, his new boss..." pressing another button showed a face of a new commander. He was short with fat cheeks, thin lips and narrow eyes and long blonde hair, "Meet Commander Jeffrey Tanner. Right after he took the reins, everything stopped. Every recommendation from Kessel was rejected and look at this (pressing another button), Zimmerman's fitness reports, first all were excellent and it appears Zimmerman is on the fast track for a promotion, but when Tanner comes in and replaces Stevens...they all look like a disaster."

As she talked Ziva is showing electronic copies of the Zimmerman's fitness reports on the television screen over Gibb's desk. On the left side of the screen are all showing glowing reviews from Stevens, but on the right shows nothing but horrible words from Tanner, the latter of whom used words such as, "Quiet. Lacking motivation. Lazy. Unfit. Sick." The kind of words that are not appealing on a sheet for a petty officer rising to senior rank. None of the agents could believe what they were seeing, but it was all right there.

McGee and DiNozzo scanned the screen in different areas, the former on the once glowing reviews and the latter on the latest. It's like night and day. When DiNozzo reached Tanner's words, 'sailor is unmotivated and doesn't perform his duties...' he scoffed and turned away from the screen, "What did Zimmerman do, sleep with Tanner's daughter?" thrusting his hands into his pant pockets after hearing of his bravery in action.

"Tanner is single with no children" Ziva replied having read his file.

Jerking his head McGee says, "That rules that out," hoping that he had a gorgeous daughter of legal age, "But, you have to wonder what happened. His first CO is literally praising this guy to the stars," tilting his head back and staring up at the bright, overhead fluorescent lights and momentarily becoming lost in them before snapping his fingers, spinning about on his feet with intent written on his face directed towards Ziva, "But! When the new man comes in, he drills him into the ground."

"At the same time, though" the Mossad agent continued, "Look at this..." she pulled up Salvador's DD-214 and then his fitness reports. It was the opposite of what happened to Zimmerman. "Salvador and Zimmerman were together for nearly six years in the same detachment, and with that the former's fitness reports were not at all appealing and in one case it looked as though he was about to get the boot. But, when Tanner takes command of their detachment-he was a rocket, nothing but praising "high speed" "tight ship".

Turning away from the monitor Gibbs said, "Bring Salvador in for questioning. I'm going to talk to Commander Tanner and then to Kessel."

"On it, boss" DiNozzo leapt for his desk phone, but Gibbs stopped him.

"Not you, DiNozzo. Ziva, you do it. DiNozzo, you and McGee go to Zimmerman's place" Gibbs said.

Putting the receiver down DiNozzo nodded, "Okay, boss" and grabbed his coat before heading out the door. A search of property was like a game of hide and seek.

Riding together heading towards the outskirts of D.C with McGee driving, DiNozzo sat there staring out the windshield with many questions running through his head. Nothing was connecting with all of the evidence they had currently. Turning to his partner he asked, "Let me ask you something, Probie; how is it that a high speed sailor, like Zimmerman, suddenly is like a bomb falling away in the sky? You saw his fitness reports. This Herman..."

"Lt. Commander Herman Kessel" McGee said irritated.

"Yeah..." DiNozzo smiled knowing that he was getting on his nerves, "Herman. You got to wonder, though, how is it that Zimmerman is first going up and then, when a new boss come in and everything crashes" raising the back of his hand up to the ceiling of the vehicle and then sending it crashing down into his lap. "If he isn't sleeping with his daughter, and certainly not sleeping with his wife, maybe Zimmerman was dipping into some funny business, like bribing Kessel."

Shaking his head but keeping his eyes on the turning road, McGee didn't believe it, "I don't buy it. How could a career officer like Kessel be taking bribes for good fitness reports?

"There's a lot of ways of taking bribes. Money, favors, a boat..."

"Where can a E-5 afford enough to get a boat, Tony?"

Speaking as a man of experience, "You be surprised at what you can get when you know the right people?" DiNozzo smirked sensing a sort of mafia connection forming only in his mind. "What do you think we'll find when we get to his place? A Porsche in the garage? Tons of money? Drugs?"

"I don't know" McGee sighed as he took their exit. To their surprise, the sailor's residence was in a middle class-gated apartment complex. They had to call for the landlord to let them in. That's where the landlord, an old retiree, was informed of his tenant's condition.

"Is he okay?" the landlord asked in surprise, stopping in his steps.

"Yeah" McGee replied, "There's been an incident at a park."

"I just saw that on the news," he stopped, closed his eyes and shook his balding head, "Damn. I hope he makes it."

"You know Zimmerman?" McGee asked.

The old man nodded and looked at the rings of keys, "Oh. He's been here for nearly five years. Rent is always on time. No noise complaints. Don't really see him around, but he gave me Christmas and birthday cards, though" he said as they continued their walk up a flight of metal framed concrete steps to the open breezeway of the second floor.

"Cards?" DiNozzo stopped in his steps and raised an eyebrow. Rather unusual thing for a man to do for another man.

"Oh yes" the landowner paused again and turned around, "I'm retired Coast Guard. We were talking about that when he signed his application and he made me cards of the ships I was on; Polar Sea and Polar Star. Drew them all himself," he said with a smile, "And they were so good that I had them framed."

Finding the right key on his ring, the landlord sauntered over to the door with "29" above, thrust the brass device into the lock and turned. The deadbolt clicked as it slid into the door, and the landlord gave it a gentle push and the door yawned open showing a small, well kept, and bright apartment. Stepping inside the air was cool with the sun spilling through the blinds of a sliding glass door off to the right that lead to a small balcony overlooking a tiny forested park a hundred meters away. The wheat colored, short haired carpet were bright as if brand new and soft that it gave in as the two agents stepped in. DiNozzo turned about taking the spare key from the manager, "We'll see ourselves out."

"What's going to happen to his stuff?" the man asked before the door was closed.

"Don't worry," DiNozzo smiled, "He'll be back."

Putting on latex gloves the two agents started their search in the living room and were amazed at the Spartan arrangements. There was a lovely black leather couch with a dark wood coffee table facing the wall to the right of the front door, but there was no TV or any other furniture there and no mountings on the wall either. At first they thought that someone had broken in and already stolen it, but DiNozzo went to the empty space and carefully looked at the wall and the carpet. There were no indentations in the carpet so no furniture had been there before and there were no holes in the wall-meaning there were no mountings. They were never there. "So what?" DiNozzo remarked out loud, "He just sat there and stared at the wall?" hands spread away from his sides as he stared at the empty wall before him.

"People still read" McGee said as he lifted up the cushions. He remembered "The Caine Mutiny" that the victim was reading when he was shot.

"Yeah, but a movie doesn't have the same feel as reading," DiNozzo replied as his eyes lifted up towards the ceiling as he is slowly being drawn into his own world, but before he could venture far, his eyes caught sight of a line of framed pictures on the far wall and he walked towards them curious. Each one were 8x11.5s either in profile or landscape form, but all lined with dark oak frames. Drawing closer DiNozzo's eyes narrowed as he saw the figures on the pages leap out out at him.

Drawings.

Each one of them was a carefully sculpted masterpiece that must have taken weeks to finish each. "My. My. My" DiNozzo said in awe going from one and then the other. Each one had, 'Zimmerman' written on the bottom-right in a neat cursive with the foot of the last 'n' slicing back underneath the other letters, "Looks like the Petty Officer has quite the talented hand". McGee came over to see for himself, but instead of admiring the craft, he took off the frames and examined the backs for anything hidden inside the pictures. "Don't mess with another man's craft" DiNozzo admonished slightly before going into the kitchen.

"I'm not messing with his drawings," his partner replied, never taking his eyes off his work, "I'm looking for anything that he might try to hide." Not finding any hidden money, or drugs, or hidden messages, he reassembled the frame and correctly mounted it back on the wall and moved to the next one.

Inside the kitchen Tony found it was immaculate. The drawers were neat, silverware polished and sorted, cups neatly stacked in the cupboard with the plates and bowls stacked next to them, but one thing that DiNozzo noticed was; there were only enough for four people; four sets of knives, forks, and spoons, plates, bowls, and cups all made of white cheap white porcelain that could be purchased at the BX. "Looks like he didn't enjoy having company" DiNozzo replied with a curious look on his face, "Nothing here for a party". Opening up the fridge there was a half used gallon of milk, the vegetable bin was full of whole carrots and a half head of cabbage, a half block of swiss cheese, and a metal bin covered in tin foil.

Peeling back the tin he looked inside and gasped loud enough that McGee turned and asked, "Find something?"

"Orange ham! Made from scratch!" DiNozzo smiled holding up the covered food. Putting it back he continued to search. No booze of any kind, not even light beer. Going through the cupboards under the sink, it was pristine with the chemical cleaners standing side by side as if on parade. This place could pass an inspection. "Let's check the bedroom" McGee said.

Clapping his hands together as he walked behind him DiNozzo smirked, "That's where all the good stuff usually is," but taking a few steps he paused and looked at the walls. There was something missing. "Hey, Probie. You notice something?"

"What?" McGee said standing at the mouth of the short hallway.

"I didn't see a phone here. No land line."

Shrugging his shoulders, McGee said, "Might be one in his room" before continuing on, but DiNozzo commented, "Guess the Petty Officer isn't the partying type, either."

Going down the short hallway there, on both sides, were more of Zimmerman's artwork. It made the two agents pause and take notice, DiNozzo to admire it and McGee to search it. Most were of ships with names they had never heard of, "USS Edsall DD-219" and "USS Avocet AVP-4".

Going into the bedroom it was just like the living room, a single sized bed done up to standards, a small dresser, and a small closet, Spartan. "Guess he doesn't have a sex life either" DiNozzo mused turning right and heading towards the dresser, "Wow! Guess I spoke too soon" when his eyes caught several frames on top-all contained more drawings, all done by him. However, unlike the previous ships, these were all people. DiNozzo whistled, "Look at this one" showing it to his partner, "What do you think? Girlfriend?" It was a fine pencil sketch of a young woman, perhaps early twenties with long, slightly curled light hair, almond shaped eyes, thin lips and a brilliant smile, small pearl earrings, but there was no name, no way to identify her except that she was wearing Navy whites as judged by the collar and shoulders. Next to her was another one, this one of a man that Tony immediately recognized, "Hey, it's Commander Kessel" and this one was as fine as the picture of the woman. "Rather odd, don't you think, to have pictures looking at you when you sleep? Now, the lady I can understand, but your boss?" DiNozzo's lips curled back in a disgusted look. "Imagine a picture of Gibbs on your dresser, staring at you as you try to sleep" he leaned in and whispered out of fear that Gibbs would jump out from the closet and slap him in the back of the head. There was another picture of a woman, she appeared to be Navy, but no names visible. This one was a pretty Asian with long, slicked back black hair, half pursed lips and a pointed chin. Opening up the frames they were unable to find any names for them.

Opening up the closet there were the sailor's many different uniforms all neat, ironed and covered in plastic to preserve them with their shoes and an extra pair of tennis shoes still in their box. There was a shoe box labeled "receipts" that were from last year and his footlocker, but it was empty. There was nothing here. No motives and certainly not a lot in the way of possessions.

That's when Tony's mind clicked.

"Probie, what's missing from this picture?" Tony said his eyes carefully scanning the Spartan like room. McGee paused what he was doing and looked about himself. Unable to recognize anything out of the ordinary in his mind, McGee began compare his bedroom with Zimmerman's. DiNozzo extended all digits of his left hand and began connecting the tips with the tip of his thumb as he began to count off, "No television. No movies. No phone..."

"No internet" McGee stepped in as his mind connected with his partner, "No photographs of family or friends. There's not even pictures of his own promotions or medals. Most sailors would have those front and center."

"Exactly!" DiNozzo snapped his fingers, "Good job, Probie" giving a half smile. His phone rang and 'Ziva' flashed on the screen, "Yeah, Ziva?"

"I got Salvador waiting in the interview room," she said staring at the nervous sailor through the one way mirror, "I haven't asked him anything yet and he's acting like a squid trapped out of water."

With a sigh Tony replied with a sigh, "Ziva, it's-it's fish out of water."

Ziva nodded, "Oh. Right. But I haven't asked him anything yet and he is sweating. Got anything for me?"

DiNozzo continued as they headed out to the front door, "This place is completely clean in more ways than one. No drugs, no money. Get this; no internet or a landline phone."

"That's unusual," Ziva replied curious, "We did recover a cell phone from him at the scene, right?"

"Yeah, but that's just a simple cell phone. You can't get internet or send or receive a text message with it. Just send or receive calls. It's like this guy wanted to be left alone" DiNozzo sighed in frustration.

Hearing that, it made McGee pause and look back and DiNozzo did it in turn. "DiNozzo, I think I got something" bringing down a finger, "On the fitness reports done by Commander Stevens, I read in several cases "sailor has great talent of the arts" and he had done several pieces for retirement ceremonies and holidays."

Furrowing an eyebrow DiNozzo whispered to him, "How'd you read that?"

"I'm a fast reader" McGee replied as his eyes looked about at the many drawings around them, "And the landlord said that he drew cards for him."

"What are you getting at, probie?" becoming more annoyed watching this spectacle as he was tramping down the good carpet with his shoes.

McGee raised up the tips of both index fingers and became deep in thought racing from one picture to another. There were ships, more ships, and then a airplane from World War I and then another ship. Watching him with his eyes, DiNozzo said, "I think the probie just blew a gasket." There wasn't any rhyme or reason for his running as he went from one to another searching for something, staring intently at the fine lines and careful shadows of each piece.

Panting, McGee drew a deep breath, lowered his head to collect his last thoughts and let it all out, "He is an artist! He is detailed in his work. Stuff like this takes weeks to do, but look at it! They're all on his own wall and not at HeadQuarters building or a museum for others to look at. These are all for him to look at and admire. He wouldn't do each piece unless it meant something to him personally. Those retirement ceremonies and commemorations, I'd bet that if we asked his boss, he'll say that he wanted to it. He wasn't asked. HE asked to do it. And those cards for the landlord, he did those because he must have struck a friendship with the guy. You saw his face when he figured out it was him on the news. And the pictures...the busts of the women and his boss? I'd bet my next paycheck that each one was done because those people in the pictures meant something to Zimmerman. They are special to him. But, you notice that there's no picture of Salvador, or of his new boss. Those two were together for years and nothing of either of them."

Pausing for a moment his partner stared intently then raised an eyebrow, an idea clicked in his mind, a smile appeared on his lips in satisfaction, "Now you're starting to sound like a detective, probie."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters to NCIS. They are owned by CBS. I'm placing this at Season 3, but it's been a long time since I've seen that season, please forgive me if I've overlooked anything and point them out in a review. I hope to make a few more chapters to make this feel like an entire episode. Enjoy.

McGee came back to the office, his arms full of portraits that he pulled from the victim's office. It wasn't all of them, just select ones, but it took an additional twenty minutes to find the right ones to prove his theory. Placing them stacked on his desk, he flexed his aching arms to less out the stress.

His partner, DiNozzo, was right behind him with sarcasm thick in his voice, "You know, you could have just taken pictures of them instead of lugging those all around."

"It won't have the same effect" McGee replied, "I want to see Salvador's face when he can hold these pictures."

"You're really homing your theory, Probie," DiNozzo said standing in front of his partner, hands thrust in his pockets, "This whole ride back you've been doing nothing but repeating the same thing."

"I'm right!" McGee said, "I'm right. Salvador is part of this. I can feel it" slowly balling his right fist, "If we can identify these other two women then we have the ball rolling. The boss is right about this being a personal attack and Salvador and the others are all connected somehow."

"Yeah, that's true, Probie" DiNozzo said wiping his left eyebrow with the tip of that index finger, "But, even if we identify them, what then?" shrugging his shoulders. "There has to be a reason for someone shooting this guy. What do you think?"

Pausing for a moment McGee said nothing, but looked quickly at his partner then at the stack of picture frames. He didn't know. His theory began to lose steam in his mind as he was now grasping in the dark for a lucrative motive. There had to be a reason, yes, and this attack had the appearance of being personal, but about what? "If we rattle Salvador then we might get something." Holding up his index finger, "Remember, when Commander Tanner took command, both Zimmerman and Salvador's fitness reports were completely reversed. There has to be a connection."

At that moment Gibbs was on his way to speak to Commander Tanner, the detachment's commanding officer, and break the news of his shooting. However, the junior agents didn't want to contact their boss until they had some definite ammunition for him to use.

Going to the back of the building to the interview rooms DiNozzo opened the door to a dim room where Ziva was standing as a statue, arms folded at her chest, staring intently at their man. This whole time she had been carefully studying the big man as he shifted constantly on his chair, looking at the door expecting someone to walk through so he can find out why he was there, nervous, scared. Trembling.

"Hey, Tony" Ziva said without turning her head towards him. She could sense it was him by his cologne. "Find anything?"

He carefully took a few steps towards her before turning on his heels to face the one way mirror, "Yeah. Probie has this theory. At his apartment we found dozens of drawings, all done by the victim."

"Drawings?" she said turning her head slightly towards him.

"Yeah. And good ones. The victim sure does have a talent. But, Probie has an interesting theory that I think has merit. There were three portraits in his bedroom..." holding up three extended fingers from his right hand, "One was his commander, Kessel, and two are women in the Navy, judging by their uniforms, but there were no name tags where there should have been. He believes that the victim wouldn't have made the drawings unless there was a personal connection between them. The victim wouldn't need a name tag to identify them because he always knows who they are."

"Wow. That's impressive" Ziva smirked.

"Yeah," Tony sighed thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets, "Looks like Probie can get something right every now and then" buckling his thin eyebrows, all the while his gaze was on the nervous Salvador.

"No. I meant you. You actually complimenting McGee" Ziva replied.

Turning his head towards her, lips peeled back in a thin smile, he wanted to say something else but ultimately decided against it. A few moments later there came McGee. Turning their heads to him he had only three portraits in his hands. Nodding to Ziva, McGee showed them to her and she was impressed. There was the unknown female officer portraits, but the third portrait wasn't of Kessel, instead it was an old ship whose identity was written at the bottom-center 'USS Avocet AVP-4'. This confused her, but McGee gave her the direction, "Ziva, when you go in there, I want you to lead with this ship. Try to get him guessing about your questioning. You want to just ask about Zimmerman and his artwork. Those two have been together for a few years in a small unit, they're going to know each other. I think that if we lead in with these drawings then he'll put his guard down, and then come in with these officers and we'll watch his reaction."

Impressed by his logic Ziva nodded as she took the portraits and headed for the door, but before stepping out she paused and looked back, "One thing though. Ten minutes ago I received a call from the hospital. Zimmerman's condition took a turn for the worst. They're in surgery right now, but his situation is desperate. They asked if he has family that we could contact"

"There's no family listed in his personnel file. We'll have Abbie look through his stuff to find them" DiNozzo said. It would be tragic if he were to die and there was no family to take care of his estate. All of his belongings would be stored away or sold off if there was no one to claim them, and it would be another tragedy if all of these beautiful art pieces were lost or thrown away.

Ziva appeared at the door to the interview room and opened it with her foot after turning the knob. Even though it wasn't a violent entrance, Salvador still jumped in his seat. She saw all of it. Carefully, calculating, Ziva walked over to the stainless steel table where he sat, pushed back the empty chair across from him with the toe of her foot, then sat down without a word as the pictures were stacked in front her body face down so he couldn't see the images.

"Hi, Salvador" she said softly, "I suppose you're wondering why we called you in."

Nodding Salvador wet his lips, shifted his hips left and right then nervously replied, "Yeah. I mean, I've been here for like-an hour. Why am I here at NCIS? I-I haven't done anything." Even though it was cool in this room he was sweating on his forehead, his medium tanned skin was glowing. They all knew he was hiding something.

"No. You haven't. We just brought you in for some questions" she said being casual with her fingers interlocked on top of the stack of pictures and her eyes still glaring at him.

"About what?"

"One of your friends. Petty Officer Robert Zimmerman..." The mentioning of his name made Salvador shift a little in his seat. Ziva caught it and homed in. "You probably figured out that he was the one that was shot at the park earlier today. I mean, it's all over the news. We went through his apartment and we found some interesting things." Peeling off the top portrait and turning it over she slid it carefully across the table. Leaning forward in his chair Salvador looked a the fine artwork, the straight lines done with a ruler, shading done on every inch of the hull, and even enough detail to show sailors on deck of this small ship all done with meticulous care.

He picked up it up with his right hand and looked for a fleeting moment before placing it down and scooting it to the right. Wetting his lips before curling them back giving a brief look at his slightly stained yellow teeth the sailor shrugged his shoulders, "Yeah. He drew. Did stuff for retirement parties and holidays, and that kind of crap. That's what he did. What's this got to do with me?"

"See, that's the thing," Ziva smirked as she took the Avocet back and peeled off the second one. Flipping the picture about it showed the good looking Asian sailor. Sliding it to him this one elicited a major response from Salvador. By only a glance Salvador jerked his head away and curled back his lips in a fit of anger and folded his arms tightly across his chest. He knew who it was. "Who is this?" Ziva asked.

Wiping his hand across his face Salvador was slow to respond, but when he did there was with acid in his words, "Yeah. That's Lieutenant Sammie Amaya".

Raising both eyebrows Ziva took the last picture and slid it forward. Again Salvador had the same reaction. "That's Lieutenant Scarlet Brannan". She didn't have to write anything down knowing that McGee and DiNozzo were already entering their names into the database. "What can you tell me about these two women?"

Scoffing Salvador stammered a bit. Looking at the one-way mirror he stared at it as though there would be writing on the wall and avoided eye contact with the Mossad agent. "They're...they're a bunch of bitches."

"Now why would you say something mean like that?" Having been called worse things before she didn't have any contempt for him, just yet.

"Because they were!" he cried, "They're a couple of women that think that just because they have rank they can tell me what to do!" unfolding his arms allowed his hands to be pointed back towards his chest.

"Well, as officers, that is kinda their job, wasn't it?" keeping her cool. Allowing him to stew made his thoughts and feelings boil to the surface so that one simple nudge would get a bigger response. The stewing was paying off and so was McGee's theory.

"Yeah, not like this. They're always on me, always telling what to do. And if I get mad, they pull their rank on me and say that they're immune because they're women. Ridiculous. If I were an officer I could get three times more stuff done than they could. Zimmerman, heh, that son of a bitch. He comes to us and they all pander to him. He can do a few drawings...big whoop. We're not about drawings. We're about getting stuff done! All units in the area all rely on us!" putting his hands on his large chest, "They rely on us to get everything done. We're the face of the Navy and we couldn't get anything done. My job is to get stuff done and when they put me and him together...I couldn't do anything! That weak kid dragged me down, that's why I almost got booted out!"

"Wow" DiNozzo said, "That guy really has issues."

Beside him McGee was phoning Abbie the names so that she can run a background check on them. Though not able to identify the shooter, they still followed McGee's theory and with the names of the two portraits, their next course was to contact Gibbs as he was about to enter Commander Tanner, Zimmerman's current COs, office and he wanted to have some ammunition should it become heated. With his cellphone to his ear Gibbs asked, "What you got, McGee?"

"Boss, we searched Zimmerman's place and found nothing expect these portraits all done by him. There were three in his room, one was his old CO, Commander Stevens, but also two unknown women that Salvador just identified; Lieutenants Scarlet Brannan and Sammie Amaya. We ran their names. They were in their unit until two years ago when they were suddenly transferred out. Brannan is on the USS Peleliu and Amaya is in Norfolk."

"What's your theory, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Okay, Boss, I know how it sounds, but I believe that there was a personal connection between Zimmerman and Brannan and Amaya. Otherwise he wouldn't have their portraits in his room. Salvador showed disdain for the two of them. I bet if we look deeper into his past we can find more dirt."

"Bring in Amaya," Gibbs said, "And get Brannan on the sat line. McGee, you talk to Brannan."

"On it, boss"

Hanging up Gibbs pocketed his phone and looked at the wood door where a brass plate was screwed in place, "Lt. Cmdr Tanner"

KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Enter"

Stepping into the small room Tanner was sitting behind a stainless steel desk with a black monitor and keyboard to his left and a small stack of papers before him. He rose up out of respect and reached over the table and shook the Marine's hand, "Ah yes. Agent Gibbs. My secretary told me you were coming" as he sat down he placed both hands on the desk and slowly rapped with his fingers.

Looking him over carefully Gibbs wasn't entirely impressed. He was a bit overweight with sagging facial cheeks, thin eyes, and looked to be a bit old to be a Lt. commander. Around on the walls there were only a few plaques and certificates, what caught his eye the most was the frame K-bar knife mounted on the wall behind the commander. As a Marine he knew all about the K-bar and squinting he was able to read something that had been carved into the tan leather sheath, "Thank you for saving my ass. Lance Corporal William Thresher". If a Marine gives someone a K-bar then it had to be a deep, personal exchange, such as saving ones life in the heat of a firefight, as the knife was coveted by the Corps and giving it to someone had more meaning than any medal. But in looking at this commander, Gibbs knew that there was no way this man would gain a knife like that that. He was plump and lazy looking. He was a man who did not fully exert himself, doing things half-assed or having someone else do it. On his way over Abby called filling Gibbs in on Tanner's rather mediocre service record. A couple of months in Afghanistan and a year in Germany, but the rest of his service was stateside and he was never in a serious command, mostly administration.

"What can I do for you, Agent Gibbs?" Tanner asked. His words were a tad slow as if he were sleepy, but he remained rigid in his seat as Gibbs said down across from him. Unlike the other agents, Gibbs didn't write anything down. Everything that Tanner said and did was seared into his seasoned mind.

"Today, one of your sailors was shot in the park. Petty Officer Robert Zimmerman"

Tanner sank into his chair with a heavy sigh, "Oh God"

"He was taken to the hospital in serious condition. We have reason to believe that he was targeted."

"Targeted? By who? Al-Qaeda? Why would anyone want to kill him?"

"That's the big question, commander. This day in age we can't be too fast as to jump the gun. Most attacks like this are more personal than random."

"So..wait, you're saying that he was targeted by someone he knew?"

"He might have been. That's what we're trying to figure out, commander. What was Zimmerman like?"

"He...had trouble adjusting. When I took control of this unit the discipline was atrocious. You wouldn't believe how much I had to whip them back into shape." What the commander didn't understand, as he spoke Gibbs was studying his facial features. When a person speaks there are all sorts of ticks that are not noticed, a twitch in the eye, the brushing of the forehead, biting of the lower lip, rubbing the tip of the nose; all of this Tanner did as he spoke. He spoke with pride towards himself, relishing in how he 'whipped' his unit back into shape when he replaced Stevens. "Zimmerman was a sailor that lacked motivation and direction. I put Salvador to watch over him and that didn't seem to do the trick. Salvador is a high speed sailor and a real asset to this command. Every unit needs a bulldog like him."

Back at the office the technicians were able to contact the amphibious assault ship USS Peleliu that was on maneuvers in the Western Pacific and connected a video conference with Lieutenant Brannan who was serving as public affairs officer. McGee stood before the wall that was nearly full with the projection that came in a bit fuzzy at first, but once connection was properly established McGee could see her and she was exactly what Zimmerman had drawn, except in color; amber hair combed in a tight left swoop, gray eyes, thin pink lips, smooth skin and a prim appearance conveyed more of a model than a sailor with everything in place. "Hello. I'm Agent McGee with NCIS."

"How can I help you, Agent McGee?" Brannan asked with a slight Mid-west accent. She was puzzled why they would be contacting her in the middle of nowhere when she had been at sea for over six months.

"It's about Petty Officer Robert Zimmerman," he said.

Her eyes lit up, rising an inch from her seat she yelped, "Robbie? What happened to him?"

Reluctantly he confessed, "He was shot today in the park by an unknown assailant."

"Oh my God" she whispered, left hand to her mouth, "Is...is he okay?"

"He's in critical condition. They're operating on him right now. The shooter got away. We have reason to believe that he was targeted. What we're trying to find out is why."

Her face sunk into her hands. It had to be a bad dream. Why would someone want to harm him?

"What can you tell me about Zimmerman?" McGee asked.

"He's a good sailor. Always dedicated. Quiet, but dedicated. He didn't complain like most men would. Didn't really talk unless it was necessary."

Looking at her face he could tell that she was holding back and his theory was ringing in his ears, but he waited until she was done before slowly bringing it to light. "Ma'am, did he have any friends or family?"

"No. I remember a Christmas party couple of years ago, everyone had their spouses, children, and family there, but he didn't seem to have any. I asked him and he said that he didn't have any parents. That's all he said of it."

"No friends then?"

"Uh, not really. No. Like I said, he didn't really talk to anyone except for me and Lt. Amaya. Some people thought it was weird, and people like Salvador, started passing around rumors that he was...you know." The mentioning of Salvador made her roll her almond eyes in contempt. Looking over her shoulder to ensure that there was no one in the hatchway, the lieutenant turned back to the monitor and began speaking in a whisper, "I know how it looks, but no, Agent McGee. He and I weren't in that kind of relationship". Sagging her shoulders the frustrated lieutenant let out a sigh and dropped her head. Lifting it back up she replied, "When he came to us, he was...he looked lost. Confused. That first day I met him he was standing in front of the reception desk holding onto his orders and looking around like a child looking for his parents. He looked so scared. No one was helping him, either. I took him around, showed the art room where the plaques and stuff were being made and he looked at the pictures being used and started shaking his head. Later, I found him in the break-room drawing and it was a great one that I showed to Commander Stevens and he asked Robbie if he could take over the pictures and he agreed. That's how he became our go-to artist. We give him a project and he would just jump into it. Day and night he was making rough drafts and studying and what we got were the finest pieces of art you could ever ask for. We had retirees come in and he would draw their old ships. You had to just see the looks on those old men's faces when they saw it. There was a sweet man named Walter Stedman. Served on in the Pacific in a Marine fighter squadron. When Robbie presented his portrait...oh, if you could have seen his face. He was crying for sheer joy. Robbie's research went so far as to find Stedman's old aircraft frame sitting in a museum in Arizona. He got everything from the squadron symbol, name, and the correct placement of his kill tally. Then, there was another one where a sailor from the USS Saratoga. He had these old pictures of him and his bodies that manned an anti-aircraft gun, but they were old and falling apart, but Robbie did a lot of research and was able to make a group portrait of them and the man cried. After that there were other commanders from different areas asking for Robbie, some were even trying to get him to transfer, but he wouldn't do it."

"What was his life like personally, do you know?" McGee asked.

Shaking her head lightly and looking down, "No. I don't know if we hung out with anyone. Soon as we were done for the day he would still be in the back working on his art, sometimes at long at 2100 hours."

"We read about a couple of incidents, one in Iraq and the other in Afghanistan" McGee said remembering the two firefights where Zimmerman was cited and recommended to receive the Bronze Star for valor.

"You must mean Kabul. I remember that. We were sent to join another Civil Affairs detachment where we made teachers for Afghan kids and give their schools supplies," she began strong at first, but once the memories came flooding back the officer began to slow, her eyes became sad, "We were about to leave with a few five-tons loaded with supplies when a car bomb hit the front gate then a sapper team tried to rush the breach. Most of us ran to a bunker, but Robbie saw an Afghan lying wounded out there in the field and he took off running. I called for him to stop, but he got to the boy and dragged him back in where a corpsman treated him. About a year later we were sent to Iraq doing the same thing and the same stuff happened. Insurgents blasted the front gate and tried to run in. A Marine was lying out in an open area, his legs cut up by shrapnel. Robbie ran out and plucked the Marine from the field. Kessel tried desperately to get him the Bronze Star. At the time we still had Stevens. Amaya and I wrote him up for it as well as the Combat Action Ribbon, but the paperwork was stalled long enough to where Tanner came in to command it was all rejected by him," her face contorting showing a mixture of pent up anger and sadness. Her almond eyes slowly closed as her fists balled up, drew in a deep breath and let it go, "He didn't get the awards, but the Marine that he saved sent him a K-bar knife in gratitude."

Thinking for a moment McGee remembered that they didn't find a K-bar at the apartment. As if reading his mind, Brannan said, "After Tanner found out, he took the knife and had a plague made of it. I thought that he was going to give it to Robbie in tribute, instead, he mounted it over his own wall in his office!" She balled her fist and dropped it down onto the desk with a powerful rattle.

"What happened, though after Stevens transferred?"

Brannan took a moment to compose herself. Drawing a deep breath her eyes flicked to McGee, "Yeah. That came out of the blue. He just received his orders and sat there staring at them because he didn't put in for anywhere. He thought he was going to stay where he was for a few more years. When Tanner came in...everything changed. Robbie continued to do his work, but Tanner was just on him. The orders were coming in and Robbie had a system of taking his time and research and doing drafts, but Tanner hounded him to pick it up. 'Go faster!' he kept telling Robbie, and he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't break his routine. He would get called into his office and be grilled in front of other sailors. He even threatened to send him to Iraq if he didn't 'shape up'. That's when the negative fitness reports began. Poor kid...he wasn't sleeping or eating. Every time I saw him he looked like a hollow soul. He wouldn't ask for help, Agent McGee, but one day someone stole his sketch pad and that's when I had enough. I took him to JAG to see what they can do. They said they would look into it, but I've heard that before, so I kept hounding them. The damn JAG officer wasn't doing anything! For five months there was nothing except, 'We'll look into it' and I was infuriated and went down there and made a big scene in front of him and everybody...and that's how I ended up here (bzzzt) I think." The signal began to distort, her image was broken. "...McGee?" then the signal cut entirely.

A technician beside him said, "Sorry, but looks like we're getting atmospheric interference. We'll keep trying."

Leaving the room McGee felt confusion in his stomach. He was right about the portraits and the personal connection between the two. But after hearing about all of the foul things done to him for no apparent reason. Joining Ziva and DiNozzo back in the view room the latter greeted with, "How'd she look, Probie?"

"Fine" he sighed, "I got a lot of info about him. It appears that the two were at odds quite a bit, but it was Commander Tanner that was the real evil face. Zimmerman's job in the unit was to make portraits, but Commander Tanner jumped on him at every turn, trying to get him to work faster to fulfill deadlines and when Zimmerman didn't adjust he gave him poor fitness reports."

"Sounds like a hard man to impress" DiNozzo said buckling his eyebrows. Salvador was still sitting in the interview room, head down and hands on the back of his head in submission. "Alright. Let's go over what we have; we have a man here that doesn't like the victim. We have a CO that doesn't like the victim, and we have another officer that likes the victim, but we still don't have a solid motive or an identity to the shooter. Salvador and Tanner don't fit the description of the shooter."

"We still have the police combing the area. So far, they haven't turned up anything. The shooter didn't drop his piece or discard any bit of his disguise" Ziva said.

Holding up a finger McGee continued on with something that he noticed during his interview, "Lieutenant Brannan referred to the victim as 'Robbie' several times."

This piqued their interest. "That's unusual. A nickname like that means they had a deep personal connection. Brannan has never been married and no children" Ziva said, "Though it wouldn't be the first time that an officer broke the rules."

"Yeah" DiNozzo concurred with a nod, but before he could go further his cellphone vibrated. "It's Abbie" he said before answering it, "What you got, Abbie?"

"Not a whole lot, really" the bubbly tech wizard replied as her eyes stared at a series of windows on her monitor, "This guy didn't have a whole lot going on in his life. His bills were simple; rent, utilities, groceries, art supplies and not much else. He has over $12,000 in his bank account." DiNozzo's eyes widened when he heard that and the others saw it, "He's been putting money away every month into his retirement and a 401K and into an investment with Lincoln Financial. There's no suspicious payments or withdrawals. This guy is leading a rather boring life."

"Wait till you see his art, Abbie," DiNozzo said, "I'd think you'd be impressed."

"Oh? Ink?" Abbie replied.

"Not tattoos, but drawings that he did for his Civil Affairs unit"

Her lips peeled back into a smile, "You have my attention" As a lover of ink she was always looking for artists to inspire her. Each piece, regardless how small, had its own unique design and reason to it. "While I wait for you to deliver his art for me, I'm running his cellphone right now as well. His records show that in the past three months Zimmerman sent out only twenty-eight calls total. Three were to a local pizza joint on Fridays. One to a Chinese restaurant. Two were his CO's office. Now, there were twenty that were traced to this phone number that I have identified as belonging to Lt. Brannan, and all of them are over five minutes and all were after 2100 hours."

Again, their interests were piqued. Calls late at night between a man and a woman? They were all thinking it, but it was Ziva who first said it, "Romantic relationship?"

"Looks that way, but that's a big 'no-no' in many ways," DiNozzo said.

"I didn't get that from her," McGee said, "Before we were cut off she said that Zimmerman was having problems in his unit and that his new CO wasn't doing anything to help him. She said that they went to the JAG office to file a complaint."

"Guess that's our next stop" DiNozzo said.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters to NCIS. They are owned by CBS. I'm placing this at Season 3, but it's been a long time since I've seen that season, please forgive me if I've overlooked anything and point them out in a review. I hope to make a few more chapters to make this feel like an entire episode. Enjoy.

Taking the keys to their vehicle DiNozzo and McGee headed out of the office leaving Ziva with the timid Salvador. They were able to gain a new piece to the puzzle from him, there was a lot of conflict between him and the victim; Zimmerman, so Ziva was left trying to discover what else was into the shadows. For DiNozzo and McGee, their next stop was the local JAG office on base. Just as they left the parking lot McGee's phone rang, and the ID read 'Abby'. "What do you got for me, Abby?" he asked while putting it on speaker phone.

"Sad news, I'm afraid" the tech replied as her dark rimmed eyes stared at the words spelled out on her monitor. McGee's heart sank at those words, fully expecting them to be that their victim passed on, instead it was, "I ran through his files and I did find that he went to the JAG office. He and Amaya and Brannan went there over the course of four days, but Zimmerman filed the most with a Lt. Calvin Simon. Also I ran through his personnel file and found that Zimmerman is an only child and his parents died when he was eighteen, after he completed Basic training."

"Oh geez" McGee sighed, closing his eyes. If he were to go, then the family would go with him.

"Yeah, I know. Sad," Abbie continued, "Like any smart guy he also has his life insurance policy at two-hundred-fifty grand! Get this, the recipients are both…."

"Lieutenants Amaya and Brannan" McGee replied.

"Right on the money" she smiled.

DiNozzo lifted an eyebrow in surprise. The case was steadily increasing in interest. Now he was eager to find out what they would uncover at the JAG office. "Okay, Abby. Thanks. Have you heard anything on Zimmerman?" Tony enquired.

"Nothing yet. He's still in surgery" Abby replied, "Oh! There is one thing; where are all of those pictures that you took from his apartment?"

"They're on my desk, why?" McGee replied.

"Just curious" she smiled with her bright red lips. Hanging up, McGee knew what the goth techie was going to do and didn't bother with trying to stop her. All DiNozzo could think about was what the next chapter would be. To him, it was becoming a spine tingling thriller novel.

"This is interesting, Probie. Our victim has a life insurance policy and has two women on them. Life insurance is one of the main causes for death. Quite the irony really, when you think about it" Tony said as his eyes looked out of the windshield, sunglasses on to protect his eyes from the bright sun.

McGee didn't think so. "I didn't get that from Brannan," gripping the steering wheel firmly as his thoughts and feelings from that video meeting came back. "She seemed to care for Zimmerman, and was torn up when I told her the news"

Nodding to this Tony said, "She could be a good actress" then turned his head towards his partner, a smirk on his lips, "What did she look like? What was her hair color? What did her voice sound like?"

"Amber" McGee sighed in irritation, "And she looks just like the portrait and had a bit of a mid-west accent to her voice."

Flaring an eyebrow DiNozzo was impressed, "If he makes it, maybe I should hire him to do a few for me"

"That's low, Tony" McGee sighed.

"I'm holding out that he makes it" Tony scoffed, "I'll keep him employed."

This argument went back and forth during their ride to the JAG office, even all the way to the front door-and up to the reception desk where the secretary asked them, "Can I help you?"

"I'm Agent DiNozzo and this is Agent McGee of NCIS" both of them showing their badges and identification cards. "We're looking for a Lieutenant Calvin Simon."

"I see. What's this about?" the woman asked.

"It's about one of his cases for a Petty Officer Zimmerman" McGee said.

The woman nodded and picked up her phone and called for the young lawyer who appeared before the two agents in mere moments. He was tall, trim, well built with his pressed service khaki uniform with close cropped butter colored hair and bright blue eyes and rounded chin and smooth face. "Can I help you gentlemen?" he asked with his hands clasped together behind his back.

"Yes, DiNozzo and McGee" Tony said, again showing their ID, "NCIS" and that made his eyes widen. "We're here because one sailor, a Petty Officer named Zimmerman, has filed a couple of complaints about his command with you."

"Yes" the officer nodded lightly, "he has, but I don't think I can talk about it…"

"Sir, I'm sure you've heard about the sailor shot in the park today" McGee said trying to keep his simmering hatred under control, "That was Zimmerman and we think it has something to do with his complaints. Can we talk in your office?"

The officer led them into his office and sat down behind his small wood desk, his face long and wide as he looked at the two agents who sat down before him. They sat rigid with their hands on the rests, feet together and eyes staring holes through him, trying to get a rise out of the man so that he knew that there was no bullshitting here. There was no time for it.

"What can you tell us about his complaints?" DiNozzo asked right up front, removing his sunglasses and pocketing them inside his jacket.

"Well, what I can say is, Zimmerman came to us several-no-nearly a year ago complaining about his entire command. There were two women with him, two lieutenants" leaning back in his chair and glancing up at the ceiling the names didn't come to him, but the agents held quiet until it came back, "Oh! Yes. Brannan and Amaya. They were with him" drawing a deep breath, Simon turned in his swivel chair, stood up, and proceeded to a tall filing cabinet behind him, "What happened was a writing session over four days at five-hours a day! He spelled out everyone offense and identified every person, including his commander named Tanner and another, a Petty Officer Salvador."

Struggling to take out the files Simon slid them out in both arms and slid the drawer shut with his shoulder and dropped them on the desk with a heavy thud. Both agents looked at them with awe. There had to be over a hundred pages each in three files, one marked 'Salvador' the other 'Tanner' and the other 'assorted'. Sitting back down Simon bit his lower lip before speaking again, "Yeah. As you can see, Zimmerman...is quite the writer. Brannan and Amaya also wrote some corroborated statements. I have them in separate files" gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder at the filing cabinet.

Picking up the papers and thumbing through them, there were countless pages, "Geez, all of this came from one man?" McGee whispered.

"Yeah-Yes," Simon nodded, "He was quite articulate in his complaints and he spelled out was a 'toxic' environment with many sexual harassments, favoritism, forced transfers, and also promoting a male dominated unit. Seems that Tanner didn't like anything being remotely 'gay' and even objected to the color pink, saying that it was 'a weak color'."

Carefully scanning the words, all hand written by the sailor, McGee's lips began moving, "17 December 2005 at the unit's Christmas Party-Petty Officer Salvador approached me in the building's front office, "Why did you rat me out?" he asked after I filed a complaint to Commander Tanner about his arriving to work intoxicated..."

Simon nodded, "Yes, I remember that one. I had Commander Tanner come in for a sit down. At the time, this Salvador hadn't been disciplined yet. He was pressured to act"

"What kind of punishment did he end up getting?" DiNozzo asked waiting to hear this. This had to be good.

"An Article 15" Simon said.

Article 15; Non-judicial punishment. Punishment was metered out by the commanding officers as they saw fit. That could range from, half loss of pay for two months, loss in one pay grade, confinement to the barracks or to the base for the same amount of time, and/or extra duty for two months. There was also reprimands, a letter of admonishment that would go into his personal file that would be seen by his command as well as the promotion boards. It wasn't an immediate denial of promotion, but it would be noticed.

"What did Commander Tanner end up giving him?" DiNozzo asked when he noticed that Simon was slow to respond. His chin dipped and his eyes flicked towards the black computer screen then back at his lap. "Lieutenant?"

Lifting his head slowly the JAG officer sighed, "He was given a verbal reprimand"

The agents nearly dropped the papers in their hands. That was it? Of all of things Salvador had done, the only thing given was a stern talking to?! McGee thumbed through all of the other complaints and asked, "What about all of these? Was anything done about these other complaints? I mean, you got here where someone stole all of his art supplies from his work area. Another here where someone broke into his locker and stole his gear and Salvador was seen by Zimmerman burning them in a barrel!" finding another one that caught his eye he lifted it up to the lawyer, "This one here, Salvador and a couple of his friends persuaded him to go to a bar off base where they racked up a bar tab and then abandoned him there. The bill was over $200!"

Again Simon was slow to respond. All of this, the pointing out of each case was making him nervous. He had read each of the pages, he had read them all again and again, and had hefted them about, but he knew that the answer for the agents was not what they wanted to hear, "Nothing" saying it in nearly a whisper.

"What was that?" DiNozzo asked.

"Nothing. Nothing else had been done" reaching forward and touching the pile labeled, 'Salvador', "That was supposed to be the start" he said tapping the surface of the envelope with the tip of his index finger.

"That was nearly a year ago. Why did it take so long?" McGee said holding up all of the papers.

"I'm sorry, but I have forty courts-martials and another…."

Holding up a hand to quiet the man, "You were busy, we get it" DiNozzo said sternly before rising up from his chair. Flicking his wrists to drop the cuffs of his jacket and pulling out the sunglasses from inside his jacket pocket, "Tell me, lieutenant, your next court case, what did the defendant do?"

"Stole a pocket knife and some perfume from the BX" Simon sighed.

"Ah" nodding his head, "And the one after that?"

"Didn't pay back a loan and lost some sensitive items" his head now lower than before.

"Oh, I see. So, you're saying a couple of guys with sticky fingers have priority over an entire unit that has gone to hell? And, the man who has filed these complaints is facing retaliation. But that's okay," waving a hand down lower just above the surface of the cluttered desk, "You go ahead and deal with your little thieves. We'll take care of your little problem. You don't seem to be bothered by it" that was when he donned his sunglasses, turned, and marched out.

Taking all of the paperwork the two stepped out the building with their minds seared with rage. "When Zimmerman filed his complaints he painted a target on his back" McGee said, "We opened up a whole new can of worms. Each person listed here is a potential suspect."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters to NCIS. They are owned by CBS. I'm placing this at Season 3, but it's been a long time since I've seen that season, please forgive me if I've overlooked anything and point them out in a review. I hope to make a few more chapters to make this feel like an entire episode. Enjoy.

In their ride back to the office, DiNozzo phoned his boss, Gibbs, of their progress. Gibbs was still in Tanner's office listening to him drone on about his unit and about how he changed it after replacing Commander Stevens. For a commanding officer, high up on the scale, he was quite gregarious, but his subjects continued to be self oriented. Then came the subject of the K-Bar mounted behind him. Gibbs glanced up at it once and the commander saw it, "Like it, huh? Yeah, we got that from a Marine in Iraq. See, a car bomb went off at our base near the Green Zone and this one was wounded in the legs and we saved him. He gave us that in gratitude. Looks quite nice, don't you think? Yeah, we worked with the Marines quite a bit over there. If I were a bit younger, I would have joined the Corps. Instead, I followed my father into the Navy. See-he was a ship commander back in Vietnam and Panama."

"What about Kessel?" Gibbs enquired, "I understand he's Zimmerman's immediate boss."

"Oh, good 'ol Kessel?" Tanner nodded, "He's about to retire. It's all part of this damn 'restructuring' the Navy is doing. He's taking his retirement and going with it. Quite a shame, really. He's a good officer, but I think all of this is just wearing him down and he wants to get to Sun City."

Gibbs merely nodded to this and gave a thin smile. He didn't want to hear all of this because he already knew a great deal about this man before hand, but he was merely buying time. As a Marine himself, Gibbs knew what it took to be a leatherneck and knew that this man, Commander Tanner, couldn't hack it as one. He was better off here-well away from anything dangerous. Then his phone rang into his jacket pocket, "Excuse me a second, it's my team" he said answering it, "What do you got, DiNozzo?"

"Boss, we just left the JAG office. Turns out that Zimmerman, Amaya, and Brannan had lodged many complaints citing a toxic command under Tanner. Not long after their complaints were filed-both of the lieutenants were transferred leaving Zimmerman alone.

"You have them?" Gibbs asked knowing that Tanner couldn't hear Tony and wanted to mask their information from his ears.

"Right here with us, boss" DiNozzo nodded, eying the pile heavy files sitting on his lap. He was holding them because McGee was driving and they didn't want them sliding around in the backseat.

"Good. I'm talking with Commander Tanner right now. Come here and join me."

"On our way" Tony smiled as he hung up.

It would be a few minutes before they could join them, so Gibbs bought time by making casual conversation. Here he noted that Tanner, despite being told about his wounded sailor, didn't bring up anything about Zimmerman unless he was asked about. "I'm trying to find out about Zimmerman's personal side. Did he have any disagreements or didn't like anyone in your command?"

Shrugging his weak shoulders Tanner blinked several times, "I don't know. I don't keep a tab on everything my subordinates do, Agent Gibbs. I mean, I try to ensure that there's no friction, but in the military you're dealing with people from all walks of life and when you're all put together-it's-it's like a pressure cooker at times, especially when overseas" holding both of his hands together to simulate a cooker over his stomach. "Amaya and Brannan were not popular, despite their attempts. A couple of good looking women, but they didn't fit in. Petty Officer Zimmerman was seen working and talking with them many times. There were rumors all flying around that they were all in some sort of taboo love affair."

"Is that so?" Gibbs nodded slightly.

Waving a hand behind his own face Tanner scoffed, "Naw, just rumors" then laughed, "You know how it is. There are more rumors than facts and rumors are always BS" laughing some more, but Gibbs wasn't laughing. A man's life was on the ropes and Tanner didn't seem to care.

"Did Zimmerman and Salvador work together?" Gibbs asked.

"Quite a bit. I put them together because, like I said, Agent Gibbs, Salvador is like a bulldog. He was trying to whip the boy into shape. I believe Zimmerman never had an older brother, so I wanted to give him someone to look up to" smiling a bit, "I would hope that it would turn him around. I mean, you can look at his Fitness Reports for the past few months" letting out a long sigh, "Really disappointing."

"Were you deployed with your unit?"

"Me? No" shaking his head and his fat jowls shook with it, "They had just returned from a stint in Iraq when Commander Stevens was suddenly transferred and I was tapped to come here". Placing both hands on the surface of his desk, "I came up all the way from Florida, Agent Gibbs, to be here. I was rather liking it down there. Hot sun, hot women, and they ship me to Virginia of all places!" laughing boisterously. "I can't understand the Navy. I didn't even ask for a transfer, but, here I am. Stevens left in such a hurry that he left a stack of medals and commendations unfinished. I went through them all and finished them off for him."

That's where Gibbs wanted to head to next in their conversation. With his own hands resting on the chair's rest Gibbs slowly drew a breath. His words were calculated drawing from his decades of experience. "Zimmerman and Salvador were deployed at that time. I saw a report written up by Kessel that he witnessed Zimmerman run into a bullet swept field and saving a wounded Marine and dragging him to safety. An action corroborated by Lieutenant Brannan. He was written up to receive the Bronze Star, but that was denied by you citing 'lack of evidence'."

That caught the commander cold. He froze-staring at Gibbs with eyes hanging open. It took a moment for him to compose himself and when he did he waved a hand, "Bah-it's nothing really. I mean, Zimmerman didn't really risk his ass for that Marine. It was-what-50 meters to and back? I bet that Brannan wrote up the award anyway for him because they are all 'buddy-buddy'. Thank God that I didn't do it. Such frauds shouldn't be allowed in this Navy, am I right?" giving a nervous chuckle to the still stone faced Gibbs.

"No. Commander Tanner" Gibbs replied coldly, his steel blue eyes seeing right into the Commander's soul reading him like a book. Gibbs didn't have to make threats, but his words, no matter what, brought fear. "What I find incredible to believe is that you denied Zimmerman his medals. Why is that?"

"There wasn't enough evidence to award him" the commander shrugged still being polite, "Like I said, Agent Gibbs, "I believe that Brannan just wrote it up for him."

Not believing it for a moment Gibbs extended his right index finger fully. Tanner saw it and looked at it with interest. Gibbs then wagged it several times slightly, "I went through his files and the records. There is enough evidence in there to cover that wall behind you, commander, to cooberate for those medals."

That drove deep, but Tanner merely tilted his head slightly and his words came out a tad lower, "You calling me a liar, sir?" narrowing his eyes.

Gibbs didn't shy away nor beat around the bush, "Yes" he nodded, "I'm calling you a liar and a thief"

A thin smile came to the commander's lips, "That's big talk. I didn't steal anything in my life"

Suddenly the door burst open with a bang as the door struck the back wall as it swung fully on its hinges. Tanner nearly leapt to his feet, but Gibbs continued to sit there firm as a rock. "That's where you're wrong, sir" said Tony as he slowly removed his sunglasses. Turning slightly to Gibbs Tony said, "Sorry, boss, but we heard what you were saying, and felt that this was the perfect time to make an entrance." McGee struggled with all of the files that he alone was carrying and decided to drop them on the commander's desk with a heavy bang. Looking at the nervous commander, DiNozzo pocketed his glasses, placed his hands on his hips and continued, "See, we went to the JAG office and found a few complaints that Zimmerman and the lieutenants filed against your leadership, among other things."

McGee advanced to the edge of the desk, opened the top manila file cover marked 'Cmdr. Tanner' and read a few words from the first page, "15 December of last year, Commander Tanner ripped up my current project, a 8x11 1/2 portrait of Lieutenant (j/g) Omar Sing in front of me saying "This is not what I wanted! You're to put Admiral Aaron's portrait first above the others. These other pukes can wait. When I told him that I had not begun that piece he flew into a rage and smashed my easel. I was forced to pay another $100 for a new easel and supplies for what was lost."

Peeling a few pages from the top McGee found another complaint, "29 April of this year-I was showing Lieutenant Brannan my finished piece on the hospital ship USS Solace when Commander Tanner entered the studio and threw a can of paint onto the page and destroyed the piece. He didn't give any reason for it, and when I demanded that he explain himself, he said, "I don't have to explain myself to you! I'm your superior! You do as I say or I'll bust you down!"

Tanner's eyes were wide, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, McGee didn't let up. DiNozzo was beside him with a beaming smile on his face liking what he was seeing and hearing. Turning a few more pages, McGee picked out another, "1 March-I was speaking with Lieutenant Brannan about what Salvador had done to me the night before at the bar where he and his buddies bailed on me and left me with a $300 tab. I told here that I wanted to fill out formal complaints to the JAG office over previous transgressions when Commander Tanner overheard us and ordered me to his office where he berated me for an hour. He used these words, "In my father's time in the Navy, we would take a boy like you to the maintenance bay and have an hour to set you straight. If I can't do that to you now, then I will deal with you whatever way I can."

When the agent paused for a moment they all looked at the commander for a response. He was embarrassed, cheeks red and eyes closed. He remembered all of it, it was a side that he didn't like, but when he was poked like a fire he was stirred and burned brighter, "It was better in his time. We didn't have this soft stuff like we have now. Zimmerman may be good with a pencil, but he was a poor sailor. I'm running a command that at any moment could be deployed. I can't afford this soft stuff. Painting?! Drawing?! We're suppose to be building infrastructure and building support in the community. Not this crap! Zimmerman was a weak man and a weak sailor. You're only as strong as your weakest link, and if we get deployed then he would be the one that would get us all killed!"

"Poor sailor?" McGee asked, "This 'poor sailor' twice ran out onto a bullet swept field and pulled wounded men to safety," stabbing a finger at the plump man, "You denied him his awards because you didn't like what he did for a living. Because he wasn't a kiss up like Salvador" then he pointed at the K-Bar on the wall, "That knife there was given to him from the Marine that he saved. That's not your's to take!"

Now rising up to his feet to defend himself, Tanner growled narrowing his eyes, "How dare you! I've been in this service for longer than you've been alive, kid. I don't like kiss ups or ass kissers, and what I don't like are idiots that think they can scare me because of a badge and some words on paper! That knife is mine as commanding officer of this unit. Any awards that my subordinates receive are because of me and my decisions! Now GET OUT!" pointing at the door, "I want you fools gone from my sight!"

Happy to oblige to be away from his stench, McGee gathered up the files and was first out, DiNozzo was second-donning his glasses and stepping out after straightening his collar, but last was Gibbs. When he stood up the man didn't walk out. Instead, he walked deliberately around the desk with a leer in his blue eyes. Tanner fell into his seat and drew up his hands to his face believing he was going to get a pummeling from the Marine. First he was loud and demanding, and now his face was pale white and scared. But Gibbs wasn't after him. He was after what was behind him. Going to the K-Bar knife he removed it from the hooks holding up and clenched it tightly in his right hand and walked out. The commander protested, but Gibbs shut the door and continued to walk. Behind him, Tony and McGee kept pace.

When they reached the parking lot Gibbs said to his subordinates, "Kessel didn't come to work today. Go by his place and have a talk with him" then his cellphone rang and he answered it, "Yeah, Ziva?"

"Good news and bad news" she said, "Zimmerman is out of surgery, but his condition is still critical. Doctors said that the bullet broke apart and lodged fragments in his heart. They had to do more surgery on him."

"Okay. What's the good news?"

"I did a search of his car and found a bunch of stuff belonging to Zimmerman, including a sketch pad I believe was reported stolen by the victim. If we can't get him on anything, we can get him on theft."

"Good. We've finished with Commander Tanner. Lt. Amaya is coming in for questioning. I'll link up with you at the office. McGee and DiNozzo are going to talk with Kessel and will join us when they're done."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters to NCIS. They are owned by CBS. It's been a long time since I've seen that season, please forgive me if I've overlooked anything and point them out in a review. I hope to make a few more chapters to make this feel like an entire episode. Enjoy.

There was many things going on. Having shook Commander Tanner to the point of anger, the next part would be to find out who else stood to gain if Zimmerman was killed. The files that McGee carried out named almost everyone in the unit for one transgression or another, that meant dozens more people to interview, to sort through, and were suspect. Gibbs directed DiNozzo and McGee to go to Zimmerman's immediate commander, Lt. Commander Kessel while he returned to the office to speak with the only other apparent friend the victim had, Lt. Amaya who was coming in from Norfolk.

Having driven all the way from there, the lieutenant was nervous in her prim khaki uniform, all proper with her black hair slicked back and in a tight bun behind her head, a bit of mascara over her eyelids and red lipstick. She sat in the second interview room alone, oblivious that her old counterpart, Salvador was nearby. She waited patiently as Gibbs returned, and when Gibbs entered the room his composure was kind and soft spoken. Pulling out a seat across from her, Gibbs said, "Sorry for the wait, but we've been quite busy here, as you could expect" sitting down with his large hands clasped together before him.

"I understand, sir" Amaya said leaning forward and placing her hands on the table, fingers interlocked, "I've been hearing what happened on the news. How's Zimmerman doing?" her eyes were wide and soft, full of concern.

"They brought him out of surgery a short time ago," before his gaze turned down for a moment, "It doesn't look good, to be honest" Gibbs replied now looking her in the eye. "Fragments from the bullet were found in his heart."

Closing her eyes, Amaya drew a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out as her body eased, "God. Why would anyone want to hurt that poor boy?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out, ma'am" Gibbs said. "I don't have time to beat around the bush, in the course of our investigation we found that you, Lt. Brannan, and Zimmerman have gone to JAG and lodged several complaints against Commander Tanner and his command."

Biting her lower lip Amaya nodded.

Gibbs continued, "From what it looks like to us, somehow Tanner found out about this, Kessel-your immediate commander, was forced to retire and Brannan and you were transferred out. That left Zimmerman by himself."

"Yes, sir" Amaya nodded, "That's what happened. The day after we finished filing our complaints we were all called into Tanner's office one at a time. I was first. He told me that he knew what I did and said I had two options; withdraw the complaints or face punishment. I told him that he couldn't do this and that I would go up the chain of command to the very top if I had to, but he laughed and I refused to give in and I was moved to Norfolk. Then went Brannan. She put up a bigger fight than I did. She told me that when she went into Tanner's office, Salvador was there as well. They tried to bribe her with a transfer to Hawaii, but she refused. Salvador accused her of having an affair with Zimmerman, how else would a woman stand up for any man? She slapped him hard across the face and marched out."

As she talked, Gibbs nodded-soaking it all in. Studying her facial expressions, her words and how she structured her sentences he was able to draw that she was not holding back and was telling the truth-as much as she honestly knew. "Why wasn't Zimmerman transferred?" he asked.

Pausing for a moment to gather herself, Amaya ran the tip of one finger across the hairline on her forehead, "Well, sir, after he had his little talk with the boy, Zimmerman said that he refused to give in. So, if I, Kessel, and Brannan go-Tanner thought that he could eventually pressure him to giving up, cut off his support and belittle and make him seem unwanted..." the lieutenant's face fell into her hands. The bitter memories came flooding back. "I wanted to help him, sir. I truly did. I went through the Chain and pleaded with them, told them how bad it was and how Zimmerman was being tortured everyday. But..." trailing off her brown eyes looked down at the blank table.

"But what?" Gibbs encouraged softly.

"It didn't do any good" now growling, "Our base commander said that he had an 'Open Door Policy', but that was all bull! I went there several times and was turned away many times because he was 'busy', but the couple of times that I did see him, he seemed uninterested in our problems!" She sighed in frustration and nearly broke down in tears. All of this was too much for her. She felt helpless, no matter her rank, her accomplishments, her service...it didn't matter here as all of the policies of the Navy and the bureaucracy had served to do nothing but destroy the little man.

She continued with, "I stayed in touch with Brannan and she was telling me all of the stories that Zimmerman was telling her. I tried to get JAG to hurry up and take action with the complaints, but the lawyer was dragging his feet". The frustration was showing more around her smooth face, the cheeks turned red and her eyes watered and the blood veins showed as well on her forehead. She tried to wipe the water away with the tips of her fingers, but it was no good. "I was actually glad to get away from that damn place," brushing a hand across the table, "The only people I missed were Brannan and Zimmerman. I do know that Salvador asked Zimmerman many questions after his talk with Tanner."

"Like?"

"Well, he asked him things like, 'What did you say to JAG?' 'How could you rat me out?' 'Real men don't rat out their brothers' and things like that. Zimmerman went to Kessel and Kessel drew up an Article 15 for Salvador, but before he could give it to Tanner, he retired. So, Zimmerman came to me for help. I confronted Salvador and ordered him to leave Zimmerman alone. A short time later, Zimmerman reported that someone stole his bag including a diary and art supplies. I lodged a complaint with Tanner personally, and when he laughed at it, I went to JAG again."

It was a vicious circle that she was spelling out. Incompetence, greed, laziness, and uncaring in their own command. Officers were suppose to lead and care for their sailors, but here it became a quagmire where the only way to get out of the endless pit was to step on the heads of your comrades to get at the vine being dangled just out of your reach.

At the same time this was happening, DiNozzo and McGee were heading towards Kessel's place. He was clearing out for his retirement at his on base house. As they pulled up into the driveway and stepped out, DiNozzo donned his sunglasses against the harsh rays of the sun and marveled at the rather 70s era design of the house. "With all the millions being poured into the military, you'd think they have better homes for the officers" he scoffed looking at the finely manicured lawn and the front garden where flowers were in bloom.

"Do you really have to critique everything that you see?" McGee growled.

"It's my job, Probie, to critique, analyze, and study my environment for everything around us can be a potential clue to solving this tingling mystery that has been given to us." They walked up the concrete pathway to the front door, "Before we begin, what's your take on Kessel? Friend or foe?"

McGee sighed as his eyes looked at the wood door before them, "If the victim had a drawing made of him in his bedroom, then he should be on the victim's side. If he's being pressed into retiring, then I think that he got on Tanner's bad side. Look at Brannan and Amaya; they file complaints against Tanner and they're gone and if Kessel bats for Zimmerman, then he gets shipped out as well."

"Yeah, looks like Tanner's the guy that rubs many the wrong way. Why is that?" Tony asked as he knocked on the door.

"He's selfish," McGee growled, "I heard him say about his father's service. He wants it to be like it was back then, and was trying to change it to make it so."

Tony was inclined to agree, but said nothing to this as the door opened revealing a slightly shorter man wearing a long sleeve gray shirt and khaki pants with a red face and sweat forming on his forehead.

"Commander Kessel?" McGee asked.

"Yes?" the man replied, "Who are you?" raising an eyebrow. He didn't get many visitors to his home, so if two men in suits were here then it had to be for only one reason.

Both men produced their badges and identified themselves, "I'm Agent McGee and this is Agent DiNozzo with NCIS"

"You must be here for Zimmerman. Come in." stepping aside and swinging the door open. The house was full of boxes all labeled with their contents. The kitchen to their immediate right had been cleared out. Shutting the door, Kessel walked around them and into the kitchen and said, "Sorry for the mess, but I'm packing for my great and glorious retirement" throwing his fat arms into the air, his words dripping with sarcasm.

"Sir, we have some questions for you" McGee said keeping pace behind the officer.

"Ask away"

"What was Tanner like?"

"That bastard" his words falling thick and heavy. "He took command after Commander Stevens did and shot everything to hell!" Swinging a hand down onto the polished stone counter-top with a bang, "Destroyed everything!" he cried, "When Stevens was there he ran a tight ship. People were happy. We had a real family growing, real trust. But, when Tanner, that fat dumbbell, came in-it was like a tornado" twirling the extended index finger on his right hand made a circle simulating a tornado going up to the ceiling, "Get this, Stevens wanted to do something that would be a contest to challenge the minds of his subordinates and have a prize. Zimmerman had this idea of making a poetry contest. Not having any other good ideas, Stevens implemented it with a gift card reward. It starts small, but in a year it grows!" speaking in surprise, "Then there was another contest for art and then another for writing stories. They became a big hit, and there was finally interaction with not only the unit-but with people on the base and their families. It was going great until Tanner came and when his fat ass sat down-he cut off everything. The contests were gone with him saying that they were a waste. I said that they were the best things in the world, but he said that I was 'living in the past' and said that the only way this unit was going to be taken seriously with the Brass is if we get with the times!"

The two agents stood there side by side in silence as the officer unloaded on them. After a few minutes of this, Lt. Cmdr Kessel paused and looked at them and said, "I'm sorry, boys. In my old age...Bah...I wish I were ten years younger" slowly balling his fist, but the muscles around the knuckles were stiff and gave him pain, telling him that he was indeed too old. "Ten years..." saying it almost to himself.

"Sir..." McGee asked, but the commander sighed, "I failed him" dropping his face into his hands.

"Sir?" McGee asked.

"Zimmerman. I failed him. He came to me begging for help, but I couldn't...I couldn't help him. I tried. I just couldn't..." He began to cry into his hands. "I was passed over twice for promotion to commander. Failing to reach it I was forced to retire and it was because of Tanner. He marked my file. He did that to everyone that he didn't like. Zimmerman was on the fast track going up because he did everything and wasn't a kiss ass like that dog Salvador or his flunkies. Hell, he could be a Chief Petty Officer by now! What might have been..." his voice trailing off. He had to look away from the agents. He didn't want them to see him cry. He was a proud man with a long service to his country and to the Navy, but in the end it meant nothing as he couldn't protect those that he cared about.

"Sir, if I may ask..."

"You may ask, son" Kessel replied going to the sink and stood hunched over it, the talk making him sick to the stomach, "But I know what you're going to ask. I don't know who shot that boy. Could be anyone, but I know it's not Tanner or Salvador. They're cowards. They couldn't do something like that. They had to get someone else, someone with more backbone, to shoot him."

Back at the office, Gibbs continued his interview with Amaya. She said that Salvador ran in a pack of fellow petty officers that were called "The Rat Pack" not because they were a group of talented singers, but because they were a bunch of rodents. "They began hounding the women in the detachment, propositioning them, sneaking pictures of them as they worked, and became pests. Again, we told this to Tanner, but he said that we "need to lighten up. You should be flattered that a guy is talking to you"." Just saying that made Amaya's blood flow with anger. "Agent Gibbs, that Tanner is nothing more than enabler. I mean, he may not have done these things, but he let them happen. I don't know if he was involved directly with Zimmerman's shooting, but I believe that he had something to do with it. Maybe he paid a man to do it, or what, but..."

"I know, ma'am" Gibbs nodded, "But I can't go on beliefs. If we did, then we would have to arrest everyone that you and Brannan complained about."

The lieutenant then rested her tired hand on her right hand now propped up on the table, "I wonder if wouldn't be better if you did" she mused.

There was a knock on the door and a head appeared. It was a technician from the video conference room, "Excuse me, sir, but we've made the connection with the sergeant in Florida."

"Thank you," Gibbs turned his head to him and nodded before rising up, "If you'll excuse me, lieutenant, but I have to make an important call. Agent Ziva will finish here and we'll get you on your way."

Before he could take another step, the lieutenant asked, "Will I be able to see Zimmerman?"

"I don't know, but we can give you the hospital and room where he and thanked her for the long travel, but he wasn't done with her yet. He entered the room next to Salvador's room with the one way mirror where he found Ziva still there, watching the man through the one way mirror. "How long has he been in there?" Gibbs enquired looking at the nervous wreck.

"About three hours" Ziva replied with a smile liking his suffering.

"Good" Gibbs nodded, "You have the victim's possessions from Salvador's vehicle?"

Stepping aside Ziva pointed to a small table that had a stack of items including a pen set, paper pad, and a small bound notebook. Ziva reached down, picked up the notebook and opened the cover, "This was a diary that Zimmerman was using. It began about two years ago and documented a lot of Salvador's and Tanner's events. It's last entry was made three days after he went to JAG."

"That's when Tanner and Salvador figure out what has happened they try to get rid of every one," Gibbs said taking the diary and looking at the entries himself. The writing was small and smooth showing the delicate touch that the victim possessed. "They transfer out Brannan and Amaya and pressure Kessel to retire, but they try to pressure Zimmerman out, but he wouldn't break."

"Oh, it gets better" Ziva said, "While I got a call from another sailor in their detachment who said that he hung with Salvador's group. It seems that when Salvador stole Zimmerman's diary, he read the pages out loud for all the good ol' boys."

"Is his mind still in high school?" Gibbs replied twisting his head towards Salvador through the one way mirror.

"Seems that way" Ziva concurred, "I remember when I was little, my sister stole my diary and did the same thing. I was heart broken. She read about how I had a crush on a guy in school and told him."

"What did you do?"

"I got even" smiling with sinister intent. "She and her boyfriend went out on a date. I slipped out and followed them and when they were eating. I spiked their drinks and made them sick, but I put too much in and she was sick for several days. I told her it was my fault and that I was sorry and she said she was sorry for doing what she did. We forgave each other."

"You think Zimmerman could forgive Salvador?"

Thinking for a moment, Ziva turned her head towards Salvador and saw his worried face, "I don't know. But, if it were me in Zimmerman's place...I would hang him"

"That's what I thought" Gibbs replied.

"So, do we let Salvador go?"

"No" Gibbs said, "Keep him stewing. In fact, take that diary in there and ask him about it. I like to see him squirm."

"With pleasure" Ziva said taking the diary back.

Before he left the room, Gibbs paused and slowly turned about and looked at his subordinate, "By the way, did he consent to a vehicle search?"

"That's the strange thing, sir," Ziva smiled, "He surprisingly DID consent to a search" holding up a set of keys from her pocket, "He just doesn't know it."

"Good work, Ziva" Gibbs smirked.

"Where are you going, sir?" she asked.

"I'm going to make a phone call" Gibbs replied as he left the room.

With the diary in hand, Ziva walked casually into the interview room with Salvador who nearly left his chair when she entered. "Can I go now? I've been here for hours!" he cried, "I have things to do."

"We're not done with you" Ziva replied sitting across from him. She held the diary up in the air above the surface of the table and let it drop with a bang that made the sailor shudder. He recognized what it was, his eyes widened and curled his fingers into his palms.

"You know what this is, don't you?" Ziva asked.

Wetting his half pursed lips Salvador nodded, "Yeah. And you had no right to go into my vehicle!" he roared. "I know my rights, and you can't search it without my consent!"

"Funny. Because you don't have the right to take something that doesn't belong to you to begin with" Ziva replied giving him a mocking smirk. Opening up the book to a ear-marked page about halfway through, there was an entry that was a bit enticing. Leaning back in her seat with the book held with both hands she scanned the words for a moment then looked over the top of the book at the wide eyes of the sailor, "From what I hear, you like to embarrass people that don't agree with you. You like to steal from them as well. And you don't like it when women boss you around. To me, you sound like a bully. I don't like bullies" her beaming smile reappeared as she lowered the book a little to show her full face, "So tell me, Salvador, why don't you try to boss me around?"

Agent Gibbs walked into the tele-video conference room and spoke to the techs that were on duty. They had established their connection to a Marine in Florida who was patiently waiting for Gibbs. He wore khaki top with several ribbons over his left breast pocket and qualification badges for rifle, pistol, and grenade-all Expert level. His hair was a crew-cut sandy brown and thin hazel eyes, and when he spoke it was with confidence, "Marine Recruiting Sergeant William Thresher, how can I help you, sir?"

"Afternoon, leatherneck" Gibbs nodded with pride.

"Oo-rah!" the sergeant smiled.

"I'm NCIS Agent Jethro Gibbs here in D.C. We're involved in a case up here. A sailor was shot in Emery Park. I'm sure you've heard it in the news."

"Indeed, sir" the sergeant replied, "We were told to keep a look out, use the Battle Buddy System when we're off duty until they find the shooter. How's that going?"

"We haven't located him yet" shaking his head lightly in disappointment, "Do you remember a Petty Officer Robert Zimmerman?"

"Aye, sir" he nodded again, "I do. He saved my ass in Iraq. A car bomb sent fragments into both of my legs and he ran out and pulled from the kill zone. I gave him my K-Bar after I got back from Germany."

"You gave him the knife? Gibbs asked.

"Put it right into his hand, sir" the man said, "I tracked him down in D.C and went to see him personally."

Nodding lightly Gibbs kept his steel blue eyes on the screen to watch the next reaction. "You know where I found that blade?" Gibbs asked.

The sergeant tilted his head slightly to the right inquisitively, "No, sir?"

"After you gave him that blade, Zimmerman's CO, a Commander Tanner, took it and had it mounted in his office and said that it was a present for himself"

The sergeant's face blazed red with anger then came the crash of his fist slamming against the face of his desk and mouthing, "Son of a bitch!" It took a moment for him to compose himself and when he did he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Sir, I gave that to Zimmerman because that man saved my ass. It was for him and for him alone!"

"I understand that, son. I was in the Corps as well and know what it means to give a K-Bar to another man"

Drawing a pen from his breast pocket Thresher slid a pad of paper before him, "What's Tanner's address?"

When Ziva left the interview room, Salvador was a blubbering mess. He knew that his career in the service was done. Tanner couldn't protect him. He was dead to rights with theft with what was recovered, but Ziva had to tread carefully with what they have. So far, they still didn't have any physical evidence that he took part in Zimmerman's shooting, but he stood to lose everything still with thievery. Abby went through his records, lots of fast food, strip clubs, and booze, but nothing that looked like a possible payment to a hit man. His phone records showed a lot of phone calls to Tanner during off duty hours, and to his buddies in the detachment, but none of them bore any resemblance to the shooter Daisy witnessed. The same for Tanner's records, until something caught Abby's keen eye that made her call Gibbs on his cell as he was leaving the tele-video conference room.

"Yeah, Abby?"

"Gibbs, I found something. When Tanner went to all of his stores he always asked for cash back, usually twenty or forty at a time. Well, in the course of five months I was able to calculate that with all of his cash back he accumulated exactly $5,000."

"That's quite a bit of change" Gibbs replied.

"Exactly. That money disappeared" Abby said, "He paid for everything with his debit card. Everything! But this hard cash just disappeared. I could find no deposits in any of his other accounts."

"He could have used it at a strip club..."

"Or," Abby said, "Money to buy a hit man"

They could get Salvador for possession of stolen property, but these two looked good for shooting of Zimmerman because they stood to lose the most, but what they didn't have was direct evidence. If they could get the shooter and get him to talk then that would be the last piece of the puzzle and this missing $5000 might be the key they needed. "Good work, Abby" Gibbs replied hanging up.

"Boss? BOSS!" Tony called out as he ran through the maze of cubicles to Gibbs then stood before him, "Boss. State Troopers have located the shooter outside of Frederick. They pulled him over for a broken tail light, found the vehicle was stolen and he ran into a small house and took a hostage."

Reaching into his desk, Gibbs clipped his piece to his belt, "Let's go".


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters to NCIS. They are owned by CBS. It's been a long time since I've seen that season, please forgive me if I've overlooked anything and point them out in a review. I hope to make a few more chapters to make this feel like an entire episode. Enjoy.

With lights and sirens blaring, the NCIS team hurtled towards Frederick where State Police had surrounded the house-an old but well kept plantation style home well off the highway with flat green fields all around with shade being given by large oak trees with leaves still on them. It took over two hours going well over the speed limit, and during the ride Abby contacted the State Police and obtained a mugshot of the man from their records and sent it to her colleagues via cellphone.

Reading the file that was sent in the front seat, DiNozzo narrowed his eyes as he looked at the mug shot, "You are one ugly mother..." he began to say before Ziva exclaimed from the back, "Yeah, that matches what Daisy told us in the park. This man had everything, including the lazy eye." The man's name was Donald Younger, a native of Frederick, Virginia. Ziva went on, "Has a history with the police and the courts. Says here he was arrested four times for vagrancy, trespassing, defecating in the streets...charming, and one count of animal cruelty."

Sitting beside her McGee was horrified by what the animal cruelty charge was, "He hurled a kitten at a passing semi truck"

"That is one sick dude" Tony grimaced.

Ziva continued, "He was sent to prison for six months, released after three, and then confined to the State Hospital for a year after he was found running around in the streets in the nude claiming that the CIA had stolen his clothes."

Gibbs was listening to his team as they fed him the information, but as the driver his eyes were focused straight ahead and with the lights on the vehicle flashing, the people on the highway kindly gave way.

It took over two hours to reach Frederick even with them going over the speed limit. They figured out where their man was when they came upon a barricade of cruisers blocking a road off the highway. Pulling up and exiting the vehicle they were approached by the troopers to identify themselves.

"Agent Gibbs, NCIS. This is my team" showing his badge and ID.

"You're here for that Younger guy, right?" one of the troopers asked.

"I think so" Gibbs replied all the while walking up the path with his team following behind and the trooper trying to keep abreast, and making no effort to delay or stop him. Going up the well beaten path that was lined with large oak trees that continued to rain red and yellow leaves on their path, the team, for a moment, felt pulled to a different time and place. This area was isolated and beautiful looking and according to the sign it was open as a bed and breakfast.

"Son, what can you tell me about the suspect and this place?" Gibbs asked, wanting to gain as much information as possible for the situation changes.

"Well, my partner and I pulled him over for a broken tail light just up the highway. When we ran the plate, it came back as stolen and when we tried to handcuff him-he was able to break free and run and went inside Lady Valdez's plantation house here." Coming to a slight rise the team paused when they saw a large white painted old Victorian era plantation style home before them with tall windows, a first and second floor balcony going all around the house, and lush green grass all around the property.

"Wow" Tony replied pulling off his glasses, "This reminds me of the Twelve Oaks Plantation from Gone With The Wind"

"You're talking about movies right now, Tony?" Ziva balked.

"They stop me from going insane" he said almost to himself.

The trooper continued to talk to Gibbs, "Old Lady Valdez has lived in that home for ninety years, and it's been in her family for eight generations. She's never hurt anyone in her life. She's a kind, old woman. I hate to think what that nut is doing to her up there," letting out a long sigh of frustration feeling utterly helpless to do anything as they waited outside.

"You have a SWAT team?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah," the trooper said, "But, they're waiting for the green light from our commander," pointing towards several men hiding out of sight behind some trees with their weapons all aimed at the house.

"Thank you, son. Go ahead and get back to your post" Gibbs said with a pat to the man's shoulder. Going ahead he wanted answers and needed to find the man in charge, and that one appeared before him with a radio in his hand, tall, lean and trim with his sidearm clasped in his right hand and the radio in the other calmly giving orders, "Derek, your team is in position in the rear?"

"Yes, captain" came the response on the radio.

"Aaron, keep me posted on any movement in the house"

"Yes, captain"

They were preparing to make their entrance. "Excuse me," Gibbs announced, "Agent Gibbs, NCIS. Who's in charge?"

"I am" the man with the radio turned towards him, "Captain Danny Rollo. What are you doing here, Agent Gibbs? Why are the Feds involved in this?"

Pocketing his badge Gibbs remained straight forward but not overbearing, "Sir, we believe that the man inside that house is responsible for the shooting of a sailor in D.C."

"A shooting?" Rollo replied confused, "I didn't hear anything about that. What I do know is, that man has a hostage in there and we're going to free her." The look on his smooth face was that he felt the Feds were going to take over this scene, and Gibbs caught that.

"Captain, rest assured, we're not going to interfere with this. But, we do need to take that man alive" Gibbs said.

"We'll try, Agent Gibbs," Rollo replied, then came a squawk from his radio from the sharpshooters posted in a concealed position 100 yards to their left, "Captain Rollo, we have movement in the master bedroom. It's the gunman."

"Understood, Aaron. Any sign of Lady Valdez?"

"Negative, boss"

Shaking his head in frustration Captain Rollo looked at the agents before him, but Gibbs stood there and looked at the plantation house with his fellow agents behind him. "Captain, may my agents look at the gunman's vehicle?"

"Sure" Rollo nodded, "It's down the highway about a quarter of a mile" pointing to the north over Gibb's shoulder.

Turning at his waist Gibbs said, "DiNozzo. McGee"

Tony smiled, "On it, boss" and the two hustled off. Gibbs wanted Ziva by his side should they take the man alive and he become combative as Ziva had the best hand-to-hand experience of all of them.

"What do we do, Gibbs?" Ziva leaned in and whispered.

His blue eyes were fixated on the house, "We wait. We let the troopers do their job. If they take him alive then we go from there."

In dealing with a hostage situation they didn't have their bullet resistant vests, they didn't know the area, and they didn't know their suspect. Best leave it to those who have the right tools on hand.

**POP!**

There was a shot then a high pitched scream, "All units, Go! Go!" Rollo screamed into his radio.

The heavily armed teams charged in, bursting through the front and back doors. Sweeping the first floor rooms they went up the grand stair casing to the second floor. Heading for the master bedroom, the door was open and the point man found a body lying on the cold, polished oak floor. "Got a body on the ground" he called out as he entered sweeping left and his team swept right and then the last two entered and swept the center. Huddled under her covers was the elderly Lady Valdez, crying but unharmed.

One of the troopers pulled down the blankets, "Ma'am, are you hurt?" looking her thin, frail body in a nightgown.

"No!" the woman cried, "But, is that man still here?"

"He's gone, ma'am" he replied.

At the foot of her grand sized bed, sprawled out on the floor with a small pistol in his right hand. Securing the body and the weapon the all clear was given and Lady Valdez was carefully evacuated from the house. The NCIS team caught her as paramedics were carrying her out on a stretcher outside of the house, "Ma'am, we're with NCIS. Can you tell us what happened in there?"

Her bony hands over her pale face, Lady Valdez cried before slowly pulling her fingers down, "He was mad. Absolutely mad. He came in yelling that _they_ were after him. He came into my room, crawled under my bed, then came out, ran into my closet, and then into my bathroom. The whole time he was screaming."

"Screaming what?" Ziva softly asked.

"Just screaming-_let me out-let me out_!" balling her right fist and pushing it into the air, "He was also holding onto his head and mashing his teeth. Before the police came in he said that the CIA wasn't going to take him alive, that he knew too much, and then he put the pistol under his chin and pulled" her face fell, pursing her lips she turned her head away from the agents, "Oh, the horror of it."

"Thank you for your help" Ziva said reaching out and touching Lady Valdez's hand with a kind smile to assure her she was safe.

"Agents" Captain Rollo appeared at the front door, "The place is secure. You can come on in" as the SWAT team exited.

Going inside they were amazed at the size of the place, over 5,000 square feet, well polished floors with throw rugs of velvet or Ottoman and furniture of the finest kind of hand made styled wood. Going up the stairs they entered the master bed room. There a trooper was searching the body with a pair of latex gloves for any weapons and personal possessions and securing them in evidence bags.

The man was lying on his stomach, he was overweight wearing a gray long sleeve shirt, a pair of sunglasses in the right pocket, the long blonde hair in a ponytail, and a pair of running pants, matching Daisy's description perfectly. Taking out her cellphone and pulling up the mugshot Ziva compared his bloodied face with that of the photo provided by Abby. They looked the same, but there was a lot of blood to contend with. When the bullet entered his head, it broke through his tongue, the roof of his mouth and shattered his nasal cavity and then entered the brain sending a lot of blood flowing out of his nose and from the top of the head.

Gibbs said nothing as he looked at the body. Such a waste of everything. Gibbs was given the evidence bag with the unloaded pistol and another with the magazine and unused rounds and the spent casing. Looking at it, it was a silver colored Jimenez JA-32 semi-automatic .32 caliber pistol. This would be work for Abby.

With their potential shooter dead, they couldn't get any information out of him, they were left with his description matching what an eyewitness saw and the pistol. Bagging and tagging the evidence in the house. "Captain Rollo, may we send the body to our people in D.C?"

"Be my guest" Captain Rollo replied, glad to be rid of this pest.

Calling Tony on his cellphone Gibbs asked, "What do you got at the vehicle?"

"Boss, we got a travel bag and that's it. Inside are brand new travel sized toothpaste, brush, razor, shaving creme, socks, and shampoo. They still have their tags on them.

"He just bought them" Gibbs tacked on.

"Yeah, and also a lot of money" Tony continued as McGee was trying to count it all. Turning his head towards his counterpart Tony whispered, "Hurry up, Probie, I got the boss on the line."

"I got it!" McGee announced, standing up, "I got $4,100"

"That's not the $5,000" Gibbs continued.

"Yeah. With the supplies in the bag, it's not even $60. So, where did the rest go?"

"We'll find out when we get everything back to the lab. Call Ducky"


End file.
